Nineteen Years Later
by Giacinta Nigel
Summary: Nineteen years later, Draco Malfoy was sending his son off for his first year at Hogwarts, but when he sees the girl that he had missed so much over the years, he couldn't help but recall his past. One-shot.


Nineteen Years Later.

Draco Malfoy was standing there with his wife and son, a dark coat buttoned up to his throat. His complexion seemed paler than before, and the long scar that ran down his left cheek glinted in the faint sunrays reflected from the metal body of the Hogwarts Express. He kept his hands in his coat pockets in a display of nonchalance, but his sharp eyes darted in between the mist and the crowd. Astoria Malfoy nee Greengrass bent down to give the boy a hug, but the boy struggled free.

"Mother, I'm eleven," he started, before spotting a familiar head of pale gold standing within a crowd of raven and flaming red and ran towards them, pushing Astoria's hands away. "Cassy!"

Following the direction that his son was heading to, Draco finally found what he was painstakingly searching for. The seventeen year old girl turned at the shout of her name and picked up the boy that was bounding into her, giggling as the small boy flung his arms around her neck in a chokehold. Harry Potter smiled at the scene, ruffling the boy's messy red curls before Ron Weasley directed his attention to where Draco was standing, looking at the girl with a sorrowful expression. Draco saw the four adults staring at him, and with a gentle push on the arm by Astoria, he slowly made his way towards them.

"There's nothing wrong with being in Slytherin, Al. James is just jealous that we always manage to win the House Cup every year," the girl was laughing at the raven haired boy that resembled a miniature Harry Potter before turning to the boy in her arms. "Scorpius, tell Albus which house do you want to go into."

"Slytherin, just like Cassy," little Scorpius said proudly, puffing his chest up to the taller boy. "The whole Malfoy family has been in Slytherin. Right Father?"

Before Draco can reply, he saw the girl stiffen visibly at the mention of him and tightened her hold on Scorpius. His heart sank, and he stopped in his tracks, his reply stuck in his throat. The rest of the Weasleys and Potters turned to look at him, and an uncomfortable silence descended on the three families. Scorpius seemed to realise what he had done.

"Cassy?" he murmured, tentatively tapping on her shoulder. "Father misses you a lot, you know?"

"My father died before I was born. My name is Cassiopeia Potter."

Scorpius hugged his sister, and snuck a peek at Draco over Cassy's shoulder.

As much as his son resembled him, Cassiopeia resembled their mother, not only in her looks, but also her temperament. Scorpius may not remember her due to his age, but Cassy certainly did. She was as stubborn as both her parents combined, and would rather disown herself and give up having a father if that meant standing by her views.

Their mother. A dull ache throbbed in his heart. He'd known her for as long as he could remember. Then again, who didn't? Almost every child in the wizarding world was brought up with the same stories of how the twins-who-lived defeated the Dark Lord all those years ago, when they were but mere babies. His parents didn't encourage the stories with their background, but young Draco would still beg to be lured to sleep every night with them. The twins were the same age as him, so he'd often dreamed of the day that he would meet them, and how they would be instant friends. His father's insistence on him getting on the good side of the symbols of the light only fuelled his anticipation of finally meeting them.

He met her for the first time when they were eleven, in Madame Malkins. He didn't know who they were when he actually came face to face with them though. He only remembered sneering at the scrawny orphan boy standing on a stool beside him and staring at the boy's silent sister. Draco Malfoy was brought up being fawned upon, and was thus not used to being ignored. He could not help but stare at the girl as he spoke to her brother, noticing that she did not even bother acknowledging his presence and was totally absorbed in the book she was holding, only stopping to glare at him when he asked about their parents. He can never forget the first time her hazel orbs met his, the first time he felt his heart race for a girl. Usually it was girls who chased after him, not the other way round. The glare was cold and hard, but he was fascinated with the way the green spots in the honey of her eyes danced when the sunlight from the window hit them. She tore her eyes away and back to her book again before he could react, but he had already embedded that sight into his mind. He didn't know what spell the mysterious girl cast on him, or was it because she is the first girl to ignore him? Maybe he was just like any other mortal, chasing after what he can't have. He couldn't get the pair of eyes out of his mind, and spent the rest of the holidays trying to find out who she is.

They met again on the train, and he finally realised that she was the girl he had long dreamed of meeting – the girl-who-lived. Again she was silent, quietly looking out the window while nibbling a Jelly Slug, not even reacting when Weasley's mangy old rat bit Goyle. She was very different from what he'd imagined her to be, but he was still fascinated with the cold redhead. Even more fascinated than before, actually.

They were thirteen when he had an actual conversation with her. He'd discovered long since that the cold and distant girl had a different side of her in private. They were in the same house, but she never spoke more than what was necessary to him even though they were partners in potions class for more than two years. When she is around her friends her stony face would light up and she would joke and laugh with them, but that side was never displayed to him, so he can only watch her from a distance as she chased Pansy and Daphne around the common room laughing. She showed even Professor Severus Snape, the man who repeatedly sought to expel her darling brother from Hogwarts, her cheeky side. Just not to him. That's why he nearly dropped the tray of hairy caterpillars that he was placing on the table when she spoke to him in that soft murmur, asking after his injured arm from the incident with the darned hippogriff. He didn't know she even cared.

He knew that he was hopelessly in love with her when he didn't mind that his whole house was laughing at him for tripping down the stairs. All it took was a small smile from her agreeing to go to the Yule Ball with him. He didn't know how he managed to muster his courage to ask her when he knew she was dating one of the Weasleys. He didn't even expect her to talk to him after the escapade at the World Cup, much less go to the Ball with him over her Weasley. He was fourteen when he first held her in his arms. He didn't mind that she was spoiling his dress robes with her tears, only that he had her wrapped in his embrace. It didn't matter that she was crying over her Wealsey ex-boyfriend, or that he didn't even get to dance with her either. All he cared about was that her head was buried in his shoulder and his fingers were stoking her dark red tresses in an attempt to calm her down.

Everything went downhill from there.

He asked her out in their fifth year, only to push her away in their sixth when he realised the Dark Lord's plan to ensnare her through him. He craved for her presence, but knew that he would only bring her down with him. She was too good for him, and they fought on different sides. She didn't care, but he did. He didn't want to destroy the only good thing that he has left in this world.

After the war ended, everybody tried to get their lives back to normal. But the two of them never could. Too much stood in between them, and he only hurt her once again when he got her pregnant, just before his past demons came to hunt him down. He had only just turned nineteen.

He missed the first three years of his daughter's life - her birth, her first words, her first steps. He didn't even know a Cassiopeia Potter existed until he was twenty two. He didn't mean for her to face all these alone. If only he had fought harder, he wouldn't have to leave her at all. He was weak, and he blamed only himself.

He should have known to give up then. But being the selfish man that he was, he couldn't stand suffering a lifetime without her. Life without her would be like living without air, and he was sure she felt the same. So he went after her again. After two years of insistent courting, she finally accepted him back. He married her the week after. It was a small affair, and only their close friends were invited. They were finally together after almost twenty five years of their life.

He was there for his second child's birth, and he thought he had never seen anything as adorable as his newborn son. Where his sister inherited Draco's pale blonde hair, little Scorpius had their mother's dark red curls. Draco had never felt happier than that moment, his wife smiling at him tiredly from the bed while his six year old daughter and his infant son looked at each other curiously with similar orbs of molten silver.

He always thought they would live a long and happy life together, what his wife claimed Muggles call a 'happily ever after'. But fate had to intervene. The murderer, the Death Eater who killed hundreds of innocent people did not deserve to have a happy ending. His wife was taken right before his eyes. A flash of green, and her hazel eyes could never glare at him again. A spell that was meant for him. He snapped the bastard's neck with his bare hands after stunning Harry when he tried to hold him back, unaware that a crowd has gathered, his Cassy in it. He knew that his wife had told their daughter everything of the couple's past before she went to Hogwarts for her first year, but to see her father kill in cold blood before her is a different matter. Cassiopeia Malfoy moved in with her uncle at Grimmauld Place and had never stepped foot in Malfoy Manor ever since. He lost more than one person that day.

Draco remarried half a year later, but it was only because she had begged him not to make their toddler son go through what his sister had gone through in her childhood – growing up with only one parent. She'd been denied a lot because she chose to be with him; he couldn't deny her last request of him. He could never love another, but Astoria didn't mind and doted on Scorpius like her own. His marriage with Astoria was just like many other pureblood marriages after all, only a political union.

Draco Malfoy gave his son a grim smile and turned back, shuffling his way towards the Apparation point.

He shouldn't have gone after her, not during their school days, and certainly not when she finally managed to settle down after all the mess he had caused in her life. She once said that they were both so broken and flawed that they were perfect for each other.

"I'm not as good as you make me out to be, you know. I have almost as much, or maybe even more blood on my hands than yours. I will lie and kill if I need to, without even batting an eyelid. But that's why we're meant to be together, I guess. Because we are both willing to go to any extent to protect those that we love."

The Slytherin Prince and Princess, his housemates had jokingly nicknamed them then. They were wrong. She was wrong. He didn't deserve her, and she definitely did not need him. She would have had a long and peaceful life had he not interfered.

When she was pregnant with Cassy, she thought her dark history would affect her unborn child so she had her brother remove her name from the wizarding world - from books, magazines, and even chocolate cards. She declined interviews and stopped attending public events, opting to raise her daughter in the Muggle world where she is nothing but an ordinary single mother, erasing her existence from magic. Everybody knew Lily and James Potter had a pair of twins, but the name of the girl can never be found. In time, most people forgot about her. But he never could, even if he wanted to. He can't get her out of his head, out of his heart. She was the girl-who-lived, and he the son of a Death Eater. She was the miracle that happened to his miserable life, while he the poison that slowly took hers. She was the only person who really knew him, loved him, believed in him, and she ended up dying for him.

Her name, is Bryony Lily Potter.

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******A/N: This piece was initially written to be a prologue, but it escalated out of control and became **a summary-ish one-shot of my story "The Perfect Hue of Grey", which is still in the works. Thank you for reading. Reviews would be very much appreciated though.


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